


There's A Light That Never Goes Out

by phantomystery



Series: Sold Me Out To Save Yourself [2]
Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Car Accidents, Corey Taylor - Freeform, Fluff, No gender specified, Reader-Insert, Sweet, gender neutral reader, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomystery/pseuds/phantomystery
Summary: Break-ups suck. But Corey's selfish and won't take no for an answer.
Relationships: Corey Taylor/Reader
Series: Sold Me Out To Save Yourself [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081361
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	There's A Light That Never Goes Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [active_galactic_nuclei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/active_galactic_nuclei/gifts).



> Hey guys, makin' a part 2 type thing to 'Spit Your Pity in my Soul' because me and a few other people weren't too happy with the ending sjshjdjdjdjdj  
> Anyways, hope u like it <333

Usually, a break-up goes one of two ways. A: it's clean, straight slice down the middle. you decide who keeps the cat, who moves out and anything and everything inbetween. (maybe even a promise of "we can still be friends!" and then the inevitable never talking again.) B: it's the sloppiest thing to ever happen. There's a load of bullshit like crying and "we can work it out" choked out between sobs.  
But you and Corey were different, apparently. For a good week after you walked out of that studio in Iowa; after he kicked you out of that studio in Iowa, he was confused. Corey was never good at discussion or understanding and he just assumed, "Ah bad fight, we'll talk when I get home and it'll all be fine again." And it's okay to assume, y'know. Fuck, he was in his right mind to assume, because you've been together for years, it's not like it was some shitty high school romance. So yeah, you'd be fine. Both of you. And even though he was confident in his thoughts, he was quiet for the rest of the time spent in the studio-- chewing at his nails and feeling like a marathon runner with the amount of sweat bleeding out of him.  
He was so caught up in his own head, he didn't say goodbye when he left, and he was lucky that he knew the streets he was driving like the back of his hand, otherwise he might've ended up in a ditch somewhere on the side of the highway. And he didn't turn the radio on when he got in his car, so he listened to the hum of the engine and the too loud blinkers every time he turned. He felt sick because he could feel every seam on his jeans rubbing against his leg everytime he moved his foot from the gas to the brake. But it was whatever. It didn't matter, he was too preoccupied to worry about any of that.  
When his brain finally caught up to the 12 trains making laps around his head, he was stopped at the curb outside his apartment building and he didn't even give himself time to loath in his self pity because, there was no reason to be pitiful. Everything is fine. And he marched himself up several flights of stairs to the front door, filled with the same fervor as he had kissing you for the first time all those years ago, cuz in some weird way he was feeling exactly the way he did then.  
Opening the door was a different story. A different story because it was dark. Or maybe because, although he could see the remnants of you around the place, (like an old pair of shoes left by the island in the kitchen.) he couldn't see you. And he knew him checking the place just in case was useless because he knew you, and he knew you were probably miles out by now. Maybe at a friend's house, but not here. And, y'know, it kinda made him want to smile. Kinda. Just because even in times of heartbreak, he still knew who you were. He doesn't, though, he's moving too quickly. In his head at least. It takes him a minimum of 2 minutes to get himself all the way in the kitchen, all the way to your stupid and awkward receipt-note that reads like some shitty sonnet full of I love you's and apologies that made him choke a couple of times because he'd blame himself first before he blamed you.  
So yeah, now he knew you weren't there, if he already didn't before. But Corey had a savior complex before anything else, so he called the number you left. The number left in your chicken scratch; telling him you had done it quickly. (He'd told you countless times to, "Slow down, Roadrunner. The paper's not goin' anywhere." and you'd tell him, "Yeah, maybe not, but my thought is! Leave me be, Taylor.")  
And he called the number. Countless times. And the first two or three times your dad or mom would pick up and he'd ask for you. And they'd always tell him the same thing-- that he, "Just missed you," but they always promised to relay the message.  
But he's frustrated after a few weeks because, why're you gonna leave a number behind and not answer when he calls? It doesn't make any sense, and he stops calling after 3 or 4 weeks after deciding he needs to try something new because the phone calls are proving fruitless. So after a couple of hours calling friends of yours, colleagues, and even some of your family, he finds the names of your parents in a phone book. So maybe it's a little creepy and weird and maybe borderline stalky, but he doesn't care because he's found you and you're only 45 minutes away. How the two of you never made the trek to Newton to do the whole "meet the parents thing" was weird, but he didn't dwell on it much because you were right there, right out of reach.  
And so it's the end of January when he finally drives his ass to Newton, and he's bouncing in his seat and he's full of his self-obsessed energy because, Corey-1, You-0. And he's got a random rock station blaring and, Corey being Corey, isn't paying attention when someone lays on their horn from the right of him and he's hitting his brakes too late to even catch his breath.  
So yeah, a car crash might be a minor setback on his whole "save my relationship" journey. His head feels heavy on his shoulders and the incoming sirens are not helping his headache a single bit. And he's upside down and he can hear rainfall on the underside of his car, and it's not until 15 minutes later when he's being pulled out of his vehicle and transferred to the back of another one when he notices a damaged gray minivan and he finally finds himself thinking to himself again; Shit! Wasn't the car that hit me white? And then he's out cold on a cardboard thin gurney in the back of an ambulance.  
Corey doesn't remember hospitals being this fuckin bright. It smells like old people and like it's too clean and the only reason he forces his eyes open is because he hears the privacy curtain sliding open and closed and he smells your shampoo. And he's certain that he's died and gone to heaven. Maybe that's why it's so damn white in here.  
And you're suddenly right next to him and he can see you through his eyelashes but you don't see him.  
"Did God send one of his best angels to greet me or-" And you jump because he wasn't awake two seconds ago, but you're putting your arms around him and cutting his sentence short because he's a fucking dick and you can't believe him. And you can finally breathe again because as pissed as you are, you can't find yourself to feel that in this moment because he's just... Not dead.  
And you're gonna kill him yourself, you let him know, too, because you're slapping his arm because "Fuck you, Corey Taylor! You could've fucking died!" 

"To die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die!" And he's fuckin' singing now and his voice is hoarse and you slap him again, and tell him that you hate him. And you're crossing your arms and pouting, trying not to smile, and he pinches your side just to make you laugh.  
And when Corey's discharged, you take him back to your parents' house because, even if you wanted to, you can't escape Corey Taylor. No matter how hard you try.  
But he's sleeping on the way home, and you think that's okay, that you can't escape him because of the hold he's got on you.  
Cuz it's okay.  
You can live with that.


End file.
